


What's the Story, Morning Glory?

by aliassmith



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-09
Updated: 2012-04-09
Packaged: 2017-11-03 07:52:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/379074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliassmith/pseuds/aliassmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris has some annoying habits. Zach is driven slowly insane.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's the Story, Morning Glory?

Chris Pine is a weird-ass son of a bitch.

Three days into sharing an apartment, and that was pretty much all Zach had to say about the guy. He ironed his jeans, sang the “Banana Splits” theme song in the shower, and could occasionally be found eating cold spaghetti from a can. 

All that Zach could handle, though. I mean, it’s not like he didn’t know there were gonna be some personality clashes when he’d agreed to this, but he’d needed a place to crash when he came to L.A. for the weekend (since Joe had upped and turned his whole damn house into a makeshift studio behind his back, but let’s not get into that whole thing again), and Chris had come through in a pinch and offered up the use of his pull-out couch. So yeah, Zach had clapped his shoulder and told him thanks and Chris had even had a key made up for him.   
Friendship like that, Zach figured, a weird-ass habit or two could be forgiven.

Dear lord was he ever wrong about that one.

Chris was a morning person, plain and simple. He loved his cereal and his Saturday morning cartoons and that first sip of coffee that still tastes a little like toothpaste. He was up with the sun on most days, and even managed not to look resentful about it which seemed extraordinary to Zach, who on his first morning there had to drag his weary ass off the couch at whoever-the-fuck-calls-this-a-reasonable-hour-can-kiss-my-grits o’clock in the a.m. and was greeted with a warm mug of fresh ground heaven and an annoyingly idiotic grin.  
Making grabby hands for the sweet, sweet ambrosia, Zach lowered his eyes from the mega watt smile threatening to blind him and that’s about the time he discovered the one disturbing quirk of Chris’ that was pretty much gonna be the deal breaker.

“Uh... Chris?”

“Mm?”

Chris still had his lips twisted into that damn fool grin. Zach didn’t have it in him to harsh the poor guy’s morning buzz, so he tried to think of a way to put this that didn’t sound crude or offensive.

“That a rabbit in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

“A what now? Oh. Oh. Yeah. I uh...” Chris stepped back, leaving enough space between them for Zach to really get an eyeful of the impressive bulge tenting his boxers. He managed to look awkward for all of a second before shrugging and turning that grin up to eleven. “What can I say, dude? It’s a thing.”

“It sure as hell is.” Zach’s lips fell into a tight grimace. “What the hell is it doing in your kitchen?”

“Uh, that’s where the coffee is. You know I don’t function without it.”

“Well you might try functioning long enough to rub one out so you can put that thing away and stop scaring the hell out of unsuspecting guests. What the hell are you doing wandering around the house like that anyway?”

“Geez, Z, it’s just morning wood. I didn’t think you’d care.”

“I’m not—” Zach swallowed, “I don’t. I just... wasn’t expecting...”

“Whatever, man. Look, I’m gonna go put something on. Are you good? You know where everything is?”

“Yeah, I... I’m good. Just. Jesus, go cover that thing up will you? You’re making me nervous.” Zach aimed for ‘joking’ but it ended up more like ‘pained’. Chris slapped him on the back on the way past in a kind of no-harm-no-foul gesture.

“Don’t act like you’re not impressed.” he laughed. Zach rolled his eyes then just stood there for a minute or two until he remembered the coffee in his hand.

***

If Zach had been harbouring any thoughts (hopes) that that little (really not so little) incident had been a one-off, then the morning of Day Two pretty much shattered those illusions.

“Coffee?” Chris offered as he zombie-shuffled his way into the kitchen.

Pausing in the difficult task of rubbing unrelentingly at his left eye which refused to open, Zach made to grunt out a hells yes but instead came out with “DUDE! Again?”

“Huh?” Chris passed him the mug. Zach was all out of non-crude, non-offensive words this morning so he just pointed at Chris’ bulging crotch and glared. “Oh, come on, man! You’re still worked up about this?”

“Hey, if anyone’s worked up around here-”

“It’s nothing, it’s natural. I don’t get why it’s such a problem for you.”

“And I don’t get why you gotta walk around the house like that when I know from personal experience that that shit is uncomfortable. Seriously, you’re making my dick ache just looking at you.” Chris got half a syllable out before Zach cut him off. “And I don’t mean it like that, you perverted fucker. Why can’t you just, you know, take care of it? Or at least wait for it to take care of itself before coming out here and handling the food.”

“You’d rather I handled myself before handling your food?” Zach flipped him off. “I just... I don’t do that, in the mornings anyway. I take a shower at night so I’ve got time to make coffee and do the crossword in the mornings before I have to work, and if I start trying to deal with this shit as well, then I’ve gotta take another shower, and then it’s like this whole big thing that’s taking time out of my day, and that’s not gonna work for me, you know?” Chris looked to him for understanding, and Zach totally would have given him that if his eyes hadn’t been glued to the taught stretch of red plaid that was working so damn hard to keep Chris contained. Chris sighed. “I get that this is weird for you, but I’m not exactly gonna sit alone in my room and wait for it to disappear. You know how these things get, it’s like fucking concrete in the morning, it could be an hour before it goes away.” 

Zach eyes snap up at that one. “An hour? Really?”

“Well, yeah. I mean. Isn’t it like that for you?”

“Oh no. We’re not bringing my cock into this.”

“You know, Zach, you should really start listening to yourself when you talk.”

“Yeah, like you’re one to judge. In fact, I don’t even know why I’m still talking to you right now. I can not take anything that’s coming out of your mouth seriously when it looks like your dick is trying to go all ET on me.”

“It’s what?”

“You know. That thing. That ET does. That touching thing.” He reaches out and pokes Chris in the forehead, saying “Ouch” in a high-pitched little wavering voice.

“Seriously. Z. This talking thing. It’s becoming a problem.”

“Whatever, just... Look, I’m only here two more days, do you think you can maybe try keeping it in your pants til I’m gone? Just, get up earlier or something, I don’t know.”

Chris’ eyes were on the ceiling like it was totally sympathising with him over how put-upon he was by this whole situation, like it could nod in agreement over how Zach was the biggest douchebag ever for not wanting to risk accidentally impaling himself on certain unrestrained objects during the remainder of his stay. “Fine. Okay. I’ll get up at six tomorrow, see if that makes a difference. Happy?”

“Ecstatic.” Zach intoned, reaching for a piece of Chris’ toast.

***

He woke to what sounded like hushed giggling and glared at his phone/clock, trying to work out when the last time he’d seen this side of 6am would’ve been. He gave up after three minutes or so, deciding it probably would’ve involved being on set and having those damn ears pasted to his head while Chris sat beside him, eyes bright, grinning at his reflection in the mirror.

He spared a second to wonder how Chris managed to be on set that early and not be sporting his customary morning flesh rocket.   
Not that Zach would have noticed anyway, because he sure as hell wouldn’t have been looking or anything, but those uniforms were really tight, and there’s no way he would’ve missed... anyway.

He rolled himself off the pull-out bed in a series of moves that would’ve made his yoga instructor cringe, and went to the kitchen to investigate.

“Oh shit!”

“Don’t turn on the light!”

“Holy fucking Christ on a tortilla! What the everloving FUCK?”

“I told you not to-”

“Believe me, I’m already regretting it.” he had his back half turned to where Chris was pulling up his boxer briefs.” Do I even wanna know?” Zach was still trying to blink away the image of his friend, boxers around his thighs, his full cock straining proudly as he very carefully positioned some... thing, god only knows what, onto it’s tip before sending it into a springboard motion and catching the whatever it was in his mouth. 

Seems the human eye could only blink a certain number of times per second, and it was doing nothing to bleach out those images from Zach’s poor burning retinas.

“Um. Probably... not.” Chris’ face was flushed red with embarrassment, his eyes refusing to meet Zach’s.

“Can I just ask... what was the thing? In your mouth? What were you... flinging?” Zach cursed his own curiosity the minute the question was out. He so did not need an answer to that.

“Cashew.” Chris punctuated with a bite down into the cashew in question.

Oh dear god. “Why?” Zach asked. Clearly being awake before dawn left him feeling masochistic.

“Well,” Chris shrugged, looking up to meet Zach’s gaze as if this fucked up conversation was somehow making him more comfortable with the situation, instead of turning him into the withering mess of confusion that Zach was rapidly becoming. “I was up early, like you suggested, waiting for this-” he gestured to his (now-covered, thank Christ) crotch, and Zach’s eyes followed the movement (why, God, why?) “-to go down, but... I got hungry. And I knew you wouldn’t be awake yet, so I thought I’d sneak in and make a sandwich or something, and then I saw the tin of cashews, which I thought was probably quieter than getting out all the bread and peanut butter and stuff, so I was getting into them and,” another shrug, “I got bored.”

“You got bored.” Zach repeated, monotone.

“I don’t know, man. It’s early. And I couldn’t make coffee ‘cause I knew it’d wake you, so I’m feeling all-” Chris waved his arms around, looking like a cross between Gumby and Kermit, only less green.

“So you thought, what, you’d fill in the time sling-shotting cashews off your cock? How is that a logical thought progression?”

“Cashews are all curved, you know? They’re like the perfect shape. And you should see the distance I can get! Well, I mean, you did see, I guess, but still. I don’t know. It’s fun.”

“You need help.”

“Oh please, like you’re not gonna try it as soon as you get a chance.”

Zach pinched hard at the bridge of his nose. “Chris, you’re up like an hour earlier than usual. You didn’t think you could use some of that free time to maybe take care of things? Like we talked about?”

“I told you already, I shower at night so-” Chris crossed his arms over his chest, defences rising.

“An hour early, Chris! You have the time!”

“Okay, look, I’m sorry you had to walk in on me... doing that, but maybe you should just accept the fact that this is how I work, and if you’re gonna be around me in the mornings, then you’ll just have to get used to it.”

“No, Chris. No. You have a hand,” Zach took hold of Chris’ right hand where it was tucked between his elbow and his chest and pushed it up against his ever-present hard on. “Use it.”

The gasp that punched it’s way out of Chris’ lungs came pretty much as a surprise to both of them. Chris’ body staggered back against the bench, as if moving into fight-or-flight mode in reaction to the sudden onslaught of sensation brought on by Zach’s vicarious touch, and for whatever reason Zach’s body followed him.

Caught in a weird middle ground between realizing how weird the situation was and not knowing how exactly to get out of it, Chris and Zach stood blinking at each other, mouths gaping. Zach moved as if to say something, unconsciously flexing his hand over Chris’ and another gasp filled the air between them, this time followed by what sounded like a bitten-off moan. It took a second before Zach realized the moan had come from him.

Chris was the next to make a move, his fingers curling around the length of his cock, pressing against the thin material of his shorts and making his eyes roll back. Zach’s hand mirrored the movement, molding itself on top of Chris’, realizing that Chris hadn’t been lying when he’d told Zach how hard he gets each morning. Like fucking cement, Zach thought, pressing in a little harder, feeling what he could between Chris’ hand under his and the layer of fabric beneath that.

“I don’t know how you’re even standing right now.” Zach marveled, “You’re so fucking hard, Chris. It can’t feel good, walking around like this.” his thumb broke away from it’s grip over Chris’ fingers, moving instead to rub circles against where he could feel the head of Chris’ cock.

“Fucking aches.” Chris confided.

“Then fucking do something about it, you stupid moron.” Zach laughed until what little breath he had left was knocked out of him by Chris’ free hand looping around Zach’s waist and dragging him in, pulling him close til they were chest to chest, skin to skin. Zach settled his own right hand against Chris’ hip, steadying them both before repositioning his grip on Chris’ hand, Chris’ dick, and leading him into a long, smooth stroke.

“Guh.” said Chris.

“You see,” Zach kept their hands moving, gaining rhythm and speed with each pass, “It’s hardly a complex task, Christopher. So you skip the crossword and switch to morning showers. Does any of that even register when you’re getting this in return?” he twisted his wrist, sharp, right under the crown, thumb slipping between Chris’ fingers to run over the ridge and down the vein of Chris’ shaft. Chris kept his hand moving, fingers flexing and tightening as Zach ran his fingertips everywhere Chris wasn’t touching; slipping down to drag teasingly between his balls before smoothing back up and over the head, palm flat and rubbing circles over the wet patch growing hot and tacky against Chris’ briefs.

“Oh my god, will you just—stop talking and god damn touch me already!” Chris grunted, eyes falling shut, head dropping forward against Zach’s shoulder.

“I am touching you.” Zach smirked into his temple.

“I’ll kill you for this.”

Zach’s smirk became a grin. He moved his grip to cover Chris’ again, using his free hand to wrench the damn boxer briefs down and out of the way. Chris’ eyes flew open in surprise, his head nearly knocking into Zach’s jaw, but before he could say anything, Zach had their hands wrapped around his dick, shining now with precum and still so fucking hard. He groaned at the feeling of warm skin against him, even if it was only his own hand and the occasional slipped digit of Zach’s guiding fingers. Impatient with the pace Zach set, Chris started thrusting his hips, fucking into their combined hold and forcing Zach to speed up to match him. 

“Now you get needy.” Zach huffed, his right hand finding its way to the small of Chris’ back, feeling the muscles there clench and release as Chris pistoned his hips into their fist.

“Fuck, Zach, I’m really fucking close.” Chris ground out, head falling back onto Zach’s shoulder, arm tightening around his waist.

Zach had a dozen possible replies lined up on the tip of his tongue, but Chris swallowed them all when he came. He raised his mouth, searching out Zach’s own, biting at his bottom lip as he spent himself, coming long and hard against Zach’s hip.

Zach would’ve been more shocked by the move, but really, like that was the weirdest thing to happen to him today. So he let it go, flicking his tongue against Chris’ lips until the shudders slowed and Chris loosened his grip a little. Zach could feel him, taste him, breathing against his lips, over his tongue.

He tasted like cashews.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a line from Dane Cook's stand-up. No, really.


End file.
